The Moonlit Vignettes
by D.E. Alexander
Summary: A series of vignettes related to each other by the moon. Each takes place on the same night, during the summer after HBP. They are canon-compliant, and I've tried to keep each character in-line with J.K. Rowling's writing.
1. Harry

**Material things are of little concern to me, but as it seems they matter otherwise, I'll add a disclaimer so none may torment me. I do not own Harry Potter or any character that appears in my story. Please enjoy.**

Moonlight poured in through the window of Harry Potter's room at Number 4, Privet Drive. Harry stood by the window, a photograph clutched in his hands.

The photograph was of his parents, two smiling, happy people in each other's arms. They looked up and then back into each other's eyes, love the only emotion Harry could discern. He pondered over the emotion; love, what was it? How could it be the key to Voldemort's downfall?

Harry shook his head. He couldn't think of that right now.

He stared at the picture, wondering just how much time had passed after it was taken before his parents had been murdered. Did they know they were marked? Did they know that Wormtail had already sold them out to Voldemort?

Harry shook his head again. Pessimism was so often entering his thoughts now. He sometimes wondered when he would meet Voldemort again. When would his suffering end? When would he stand in a circle of foes, a crown of thorns, and stare defiantly into those eyes glaring menacingly at him? When would he hear the cold, cruel, high-pitched laughter and that voice, dripping with hate and venom, call out '_Avada_ _Kedavra_', call Harry to his death?

When would Voldemort no longer interrupt his thoughts?

Here he was again, allowing that snake to slither his way back into his thoughts. How he ached to forget it, all of it, and live the life of a normal seventeen-year-old wizard! He knew, however, that this was impossible. Voldemort had marked him, Harry, as his equal and the two would forever be locked in combat until either died.

A single tear slipped down Harry's cheek and splashed onto the glass protecting the picture. He would die or he would kill Voldemort. It was inevitable; he would be victim or he would be murderer.

Harry looked at the photograph again and pushed the pessimism from his mind, choosing, instead, to think of his deceased mentor, Albus Dumbledore. The old man had been closer to him than any other single person in the world, even Sirius. Dumbledore was almost a… a… a grandfather to Harry.

Though he had been close, Dumbledore had left Harry many cryptic messages and questions, few of which Harry had been able to answer, most too difficult for him to even touch. Thinking was Hermione's strong suit, not his. She would be able to find the answers he sought, he needed, he wanted. His best friend Ron, on the other hand, would be as stupefied as Harry himself, if not more. Neither, however, was with him, at least not now.

Harry looked away from the picture and out the window, into the full, bright, white moon. It was an object of purity and simplicity, an object that held so much meaning and impact on humans, but was seldom thought of. Thinking of purity and things not often pondered over, another person was brought to mind -- Ginny Weasley, Ron's younger sister.

Harry and Ginny had fallen for each other and, in an effort to protect Ginny, Harry had forced himself to distance her. He knew it was a bad, horrible idea, but it had to be done.

Ginny had to be protected.

Harry turned away from the window and sat on the edge of his bed. He glanced at the photograph again and thought, 'Voldemort will pay.' He lay down and slowly drifted off to sleep, the moonlight shining over his body.


	2. Ginny

**I'm not a girl, so please don't kill me.**

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Ginny Weasley sat on the front porch. Her knees were tucked against her chest and her arms hugged them tightly. Her beautiful eyes were marred by the glassy likeness of tears. She stared at the waning moon, its soft glow lighting the small area which she occupied.

Ginny rocked slowly back and forth, her thoughts centered on one thing – no, one person: Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived. _He _had broken up with her after Professor Dumbledore's funeral.

Harry's reason had been… totally lame and really stupid. At least, Ginny thought so.

Ginny knew that when most boys broke up with girls, it was for another girl, because she wasn't pretty enough for him, or because he just didn't want a girlfriend at the time. Not Harry James Potter, though; oh no! The _Chosen One_ couldn't be with Ginny because it was the only way to keep her _safe_.

Ginny snorted. Even when she tried to convince herself otherwise, she knew Harry had been right. She _was_ a target for the Death Eaters, and her red hair didn't exactly help things, either. It didn't matter, though; she'd be a target anyways. The Weasley family was entirely to close to the Boy Who Lived, and, therefore, say quite high on the list.

Ginny wished she could make Harry understand this. She'd have to shoulder Atlas' heavy burden before that happened; or, maybe she would be content to admire the Boy Who Lived from afar. After all, that's what she'd been doing for most of the time. She would be there waiting for him when he returned, arms wide open and a smile on her face.

No; she could never do that. Ginevra Weasley was not one to sit around while everyone else was occupied. No matter what happened, she would follow Harry Potter to the ends of the universe.

She did not care what anyone would say. She was her own person. Harry would kill Voldemort, and Ginny would protect his back. She _would not_ allow him to be harmed.

"I love you, Harry Potter," she whispered quietly.

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**At this point, the idea is to continue on with other characters. I apologize as it takes some time to get into the mindset of different people, so it will be a while before the next chapter is up.**


	3. Severus

**Wow... I feel for anyone who has been waiting on the next installment of this series. It has been 6 years. I really do apologize. I went through a horrible dry spell in terms of writing. It is finally over. I promise. That isn't to say I will suddenly be posting 20 new stories. That just isn't me. I will, however, try to write more of the vignettes for this series. I've also begun work on a Harry/Draco fic. Please stay tuned for that one. Hopefully, it will be up within the next week. I'm also looking at writing the next vignette in this fic. I am open to character suggestions. Please do remember I am keeping these canon. That means the following: This series takes place between HBP and DH. Sirius is dead. Dumbledore is dead.  
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**Please enjoy and review! **

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Pale moonlight fell across a flickering candle and alighted on faded black robes. The figure wearing them heaved a heavy sigh, thinking, _For the greater good? Why do I feel like everything good has finally ended?_ He shifted, white hands brushing over yellowed parchment that languished on the oaken desk. _We've played so many games, Albus. What fools we mortals be!_

The figure sighed again and leaned forward. Severus Snape's face was etched with sadness and defeat, the flame of the candle turning the hollows of his pale cheeks into grotesque shapes. Coal black eyes raked over the letter, reading it for the fifth time. Albus had written of the 'need for strength and surety' in the wake of his death. He had even addressed Severus' eminent promotion to Headmaster of Hogwarts.

'You must guard the children as best you can, Severus. Tom and his Death Eaters will test you more when you are headmaster than at any other time. I know you will weather this storm. I know it will change you. Be wary and, as Alastor is fond of saying, be constantly vigilant.

'Remember too, Severus, redemption is yours when you allow yourself to have it.'

Redemption. He had done so many things wrong in his life, had spent years trying to earn redemption. What did Albus know of the things that clawed at Severus' heart? All of these things he had done... the lies, the spying, the misdirection... what had they been for? The spoilt brat-of-a-child Potter?

_No!_ he chided himself. Harry had proven he was not Potter's progeny alone. Yes, there was so much of James in the child, in his face and his Quidditch skills, but Lily was ever present. It was not just the boy's eyes; it was in his smile and his quiet confidence.

Perhaps that was why Severus had found himself so angry whenever he saw the boy. He was a painful reminder of the woman he loved and had lost. Lily had been a source of strength to him. If things at home became too much, he could escape to the park, and soon she would be there. She would comfort him. "All those bad things, Sev," she'd say, "let them go."

A tear slipped down the man's cheek. What had possessed him to be so stupid in his youth? Idiotic pride had blinded him, pushed away the one person who had ever really trusted him. Then, the Dark Lord had taken the sweet woman away forever.

Severus had vowed that Halloween night he would bring about that man's downfall however he could. There was no price too steep for revenge. It was why he'd gone to Albus and agreed to his terms of slavery. For a few years, it had been easy. It almost felt like mockery to call it spying. He'd met with Lucius and several other Death Eaters now then, joined in their parties and toasts to the Dark Lord. he even followed when Muggle-hunting-and-torture parties were arrange, but always, _always_ listening for whispers or rumors of the Dark Lord's eventual return.

1 September 1991 had changed everything. Severus had tried to ready himself, but seeing Lily staring at him from James' face had been a punch to the gut. Everything, all of the hate and pride, the loss and sorrow, and the anger, had come rushing back. It slammed into him like a speeding train. He found it difficult to stop himself from lashing out in spite.

Harry deserved none of the vile remarks and scathing insults that Severus had thrown at him. It was impressive that rarely did the boy rise to Severus' bait, showing Lily's level head in those situations. True, there were the times when James' temper was let loose, but Harry really was such an amalgam of his parents.

Severus shook his head, wishing away the tears. He should find some way to apologize to the young man. _There must be something I can do_, he thought as his eyes swept around the room. They landed on the Pensieve.

Of course. The thing that had caused the worsening of their... _relationship. _Harry had seen Severus' most hated memory and had seen his father in a different light. Perhaps, Severus could show both himself and Lily in another light as well. He studied the artifact a moment longer and decided. Yes, it would be perfect. Now, he just needed a vial.


End file.
